


What I Want

by daggertattoos



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gallavich, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-11 00:41:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4414313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daggertattoos/pseuds/daggertattoos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ok so i'm all for that otp where person A is the grumpy anger issues one and person B is a ray of sunshine but one day person B gets all pissy and frustrated and isn't in the mood to talk to person A and person A kinda just yells at them and person B thinks they wanna fight but actually person A is just tryna be a sweetheart but they don't know how so they're just reALLY AWKWARD AT EXPLAINING THAT THEY JUST WANNA TALK IT OUT LIKE HEY IM NOT TRYNA START A FIGHT OR ANYTHING JUST TALK TO ME PLS</p>
            </blockquote>





	What I Want

**Author's Note:**

> M for language

Ian's so fucking sick of all those disgusting looks he gets whenever he's running errands in town as if they think mentally ill people shouldn't be allowed out in civilisation, and those homophobic comments he overhears whenever he's walking past a group of guys as if they think gay people would fuck any man they come across, and the worst part of it all is when they put the two together, calling him things like ‘the gay one with all the problems’ as if him loving another man is the reason he was diagnosed with a mental disorder. It's all fucking bullshit, and he's had enough of it.

Ian used to be the one who didn't care what anyone else thought, who did whatever the hell he wanted because he could, but he's had it up to here with the constant harassment, his frustration and chagrin obvious in the way he stalks into the Milkovich home, slamming the already half-broken door behind him.

Mickey jumps slightly at the banging sound, almost choking on the cigarette he was sucking on, switching off the tv that was showing god knows what – all the shows were crap now, anyway – as he looks up at Ian, who's getting himself a beer awfully aggressively, a crease in his forehead and his lips pulled down into a frown. _It's a funny look on him,_ Mickey thinks, chuckling lowly to himself as he watches Ian pace across the living room with his jaw set so tightly, Mickey's worried his muscles might just pop out of his face.

“What the fuck's up with you, man?” Mickey asks, that irritating teasing tone in his voice that sort of makes Ian want to punch him in the face.

Ian decides to roll his eyes instead – he's punched Mickey before and his hand throbbed for the next three days – and he chugs down the rest of his beer, tossing the can into the nearest trash bin, and he mutters, “Nothing.”

Ian doesn't have to look at Mickey to know that he's got that ‘you're a fucking idiot’ look on his face, then he turns – _aha_ , that face – to give Mickey a simple shrug, cracking a small smile to back himself up, but Mickey's not buying his bullshit. Mickey never does.

“Alright,” Mickey almost scoffs, eyebrows arched perfectly and if Ian wasn't so irked at the time, he would've felt envious of those eyebrows. “Have fun with your fucking _nothing_.”

Ian has to physically stop himself from rolling his eyes again because he's afraid they might roll too far back and he's too tired to get into an argument right now, so all he does is sigh, “Whatever, Mick. I'm not in the mood for this.”

For a moment, Ian thinks that Mickey might've realised he was being a dick, because a furrowed look crosses his face, confusion etched into his features, but then he narrows his eyes, and those damn eyebrows are back, and he says, “You serious?”

At that, Ian just scoffs, “You're an asshole,” because, Jesus, this guy is _hopeless_ and he honestly can't deal with this right now, so he turns on his heel, heading towards their room, but he freezes in his steps when Mickey suddenly yells, “Ay, Gallagher!” Ian shuts his eyes. He hasn't heard _that_ in a while. “Don't you fucking walk away from me!”

Ian could keep walking, could just lock himself in their room until he felt like facing Mickey again, or anyone for that matter, but its him, and he's never been great at just walking away from things so he turns around to face Mickey again, a hard look on his face as he asks, “What do you want from me?”

Mickey's standing now, but his height is far from intimidating, so he uses that famous Milkovich scowl to glare up at Ian, but at this point, Ian isn't phased by it anymore, simply mirroring Mickey's cocky expression and that doesn't seem to make Mickey too happy, because now, he looks _really_ pissed – the kind of pissed that came right before a punch to the gut – and Ian tries his hardest not to take a step back because he doesn't want to seem scared, but he also doesn't want a bruise on his stomach.

“What do I want?” Mickey echoes, a rough tone in his voice as he draws closer to Ian, slow, slow steps. Ian tries not to flinch when he says bitterly, “I want you to _not_ take out your anger on me when you're mad at something.” Closer. “I want you to _not_ walk away from me when you're not in the mood.” Mickey's practically one step away from colliding into Ian's chest now, looking up at him with those icy blue eyes that made him shiver. Cold, hard anger lit those eyes and Ian's almost convinced that Mickey's seconds away from slamming his fast into Ian's face – or any other body part – and he can't be bothered to fight back, so he lets his eyes close, sighing as he waits for the blow.

But it never comes.

Instead, he feels Mickey's palms press against his chest softly, a small sigh coming from Mickey and Ian cracks open his eyes to see a hint of a smile tugging at Mickey's chapped lips. Ian probably has confusion plastered all over his face because Mickey laughs a little, his hands travelling up to Ian's neck, his fingers locking together behind it. Then, Mickey says, “What I want,” his thumbs press soft circles into Ian's skin, “is for you to fucking talk to me about stuff, you idiot.”

“What?” Ian mumbles, not sure if he's hearing things straight. Mickey wants to _talk_? About _stuff_? What the _fuck_?

This time, it's Mickey who's rolling his eyes, but then his voice goes all low and serious, saying, “Look, I don't know much about how this whole relationship thing works, but what I do know is that when one of us is going through shit, the other one's gotta help them get through it, right?”

Ian nods, not knowing how else to respond to this side of Mickey, the side that actually gave a fuck about their relationship, the side that didn't resort to violence at the slightest hint of an argument.

“And it's like family, right?” Mickey continues, smiling a little more now as his confidence grows. “You gotta look out for your family, no matter what, I know that. And _you_ , Ian, you're my fucking family.”

“I am?” Ian's pretty sure his voice cracked a little, but he doesn't care. Nothing matters right now, nothing but Mickey.

Mickey grins. “‘Course you are.” Moving his hands from Ian's neck to his shoulders, he leads Ian back to the couch, pushing him down onto the seat, saying, “So, when you're having a shitty day, you're gonna sit your ass on this couch and we're gonna fucking talk about it. Then, we'll do whatever the fuck you want. We could watch your lame ass movies, or I could blow you, just, _whatever_ , man.”

“Mick-”

“But I draw the fucking line at painting nails or braiding hair,” Mickey warns, a deep scowl on his face. “As much as I like a cock in me, I'm not into that shit.”

“Not even a little?”

“Nope.”

Ian laughs and this time, his face lights up and his grin reaches his eyes and _fuck_ , Mickey loves seeing him like this, so he leans down, pressing a strong kiss to Ian's smiling lips and Ian pulls Mickey into his lap, kissing him back.

“So,” Mickey says, when they pull away. “What were you mad about, anyway?”

Ian shrugs, stealing another quick kiss from Mickey, arms snaking themselves around Mickey's waist. He grins at Mickey, that dopey, high as fuck look on his face that he got whenever Mickey kissed him, and he says, “I love you so fucking much right now, I forgot I was even mad.”

At that, Mickey frowns, muttering, “Oh.” Then, he heaves a loud sigh, adding, “If you're okay, then I guess we don't need to do this right now...” And he begins to unlatch himself from Ian slowly, but before he can get far, Ian pulls him in again, twisting quickly so that Mickey is pinned under him and he fakes a pout.

“I feel bad again,” Ian whines, pecking at Mickey's neck and Mickey laughs, muttering, “What a fucking drama queen,” before pulling Ian into another one of those intoxicating kisses and Ian decides that if every bad day ended like this, he could take all the crap those Southsiders threw at him, and then he decides that everyday should end like this, and he hopes that Mickey could get used to that, because he definitely can.

**Author's Note:**

> Haven't written in a while so I hope this is okay!! Lemme know what you think in the comments xo


End file.
